The Seafarer
by Alexandra the Gray
Summary: A story of love and anguish. The sea can be a dangerous place, especially when it wants your head. SangoMiroku with some KagomeInuyasha. Rated M. Four chapters in total.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Inuyasha. Rumiko Takahashi does. All I own is book 11 from the manga and movies 1 and 3. There seem to be a few gaps in my collection… Oh! Also, I don't own the poem used in this story. It comes from _Prospero's Children_ by Jan Siegel.

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**The Seafarer**

**Chapter 1: Back to Me**

**By**

**Alexandra the Gray

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Dark gray clouds obscured the early morning sky, hiding the newly risen sun behind their bleak folds and layer upon layer of thick, gray fog. Sea birds flew above frothing salt water, sending their call into the otherwise soundless morning. The gray pavement before the row of grim, seaward facing townhouses was wet and slick. Every dismal dwelling was still and silent, every dark window framed by motionless pale curtains leading in to rooms left at a standstill, left in a vacuum of inactivity…

All but one room.

A soft light emanated from the highest window of one house, sending a visible beam of faded light into the foggy outside. Just inside the window a man stood in a worn cotton shirt untouched by dye, the only three buttons at the collar left unbuttoned, a pair of coarse brown pants with brown suspenders lying limply at the sides and a pair of old woolen socks. He stood fiddling with the adjustments of his wristwatch, though he looked beyond it, to the bed beside the tiny window, the woman facing away from him, breathing the even, shallow breath of sleep.

Her long brown hair lay behind her on the bed, mussed from sleep. The thin white sheets and warm quilt lay above her body, loosely hugging her lithe frame. The light from the bedside lamp played across the pale skin of her rounded arm.

After he had contemplated the beauty before him for a moment more he moved forward, slowly lowering himself to kneel on the edge of the bed leaning over her with his hand bracing his weight on her other side, careful not to jar the bed too much lest she wake.

"Sleep well, my Sango," he whispered before pressing a light kiss to her temple. She stirred, mumbling incoherently in her sleep and turning her head to him. He took a short moment to stare at her face, memorizing every curve and angle, as he often did before he left. He once again lowered his head, this time to press his lips to her soft peach ones before breathing, "I'll see you soon, love."

He reluctantly pulled away from her, turning off the light before quietly leaving the room, being careful to avoid the floorboards in the room that he knew would creak.

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As he came trudging down the last of the narrow stairs pulling the straps of his suspenders over his shoulders, he headed for the small, dingy refrigerator in the rather threadbare little kitchen and began searching through the mess of the shelves for the last chunk of cheese and the bit of ham hiding behind an old plate of fuzz. Cheese, meat and a near empty bottle of milk in hand, he plunked himself down at the rough, scrubbed wooden table in one of the matching, hard wooden chairs and began eating his breakfast.

As he nibbled on his cheese he found himself staring listlessly into space, his mind a slack chaos that he had almost no hope of putting to order. The thick impenetrable wall of fog beyond the window mesmerized him, trapping him in his own intense yet unfocused gaze. Beyond that fog he could sense something. Something dark, infinite… empty.

A wave of ice crawled its way up his spine, accompanied by inconceivable, irrational fear as his senses were assaulted by the muddled sounds of crashing waves, howling wind and the mix of men bellowing orders and crying out for help. A flash of lightning cut across the gray window, turning everything around it to a violent dark storm, the wind sending rain flying almost parallel to the sea.

An inconceivable horror chilled him to the morrow as the vision turned to show a great, dark maw rising up from the oceanic surface, ready to devour both him and the ship.

The tinkling sound of breaking glass filled the air.

Miroku was suddenly jarred from his staring contest with the one eyed monster that had become the window. A cold sweat ran down the side of his face as he looked about the kitchen, looking for the source of the sudden sound.

He spotted the small pieces of broken glass spattered across the wood floor. His gaze slowly moved up to counter level, spying, Kirara, her red eyes wide in innocent surprise, though he wasn't fooled by the act, as not a strand of her buttery yellow fur was ruffled by the "accidental" crash.

He sighed heavily, wiping the sweat from his brow and pushing the disturbing vision to the back of his mind, and pushed out his chair. He went over to the cupboard by the stairs and pulled out an old broom with bits of straw sticking out at odd angles and began to clean up the new mess. When he was done and had returned the broom to its proper place he quickly snatched the blond cat off the countertop and tucked her under his arm, muttering to her, "What's gotten into you?" though without any real attempt at anger.

He moved quickly from the kitchen to the small living room and toward the solid front door. He quickly turned the lock, twisted the knob, wrenched open the door and threw the criminal cat out the door, closing the door soundly once she had passed the boundary of the house.

Once he had brushed off what he could of the stray hair she had left on the side of his shirt, he sat down on the short wooden chair stationed beside the door and started to pull his brown leather boots on over his sock clad feet. Once his feet were suitably covered in their protective layer of leathery hide he stood and pulled a faded brown jacket down from its hook by the door and pushed his arms through the padded sleeves, tugging the zipper up to his chin. He reached again for the coat rack, this time selecting a tweed cap with an inch long brim that was partly covered by the floppy material of the cap, and stuck it on top of his head.

He again opened the door, turned the lock, stepped out onto the small stoop, and shut the door behind, hearing the sound of lock falling into place.

He turned to the pavement before the house, his breath coming out in white puffs in the cold air, and stuck his hands in his pockets to protect them from the cold morning air.

He started down the cold, stone steps.

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He had not been walking very long before the image of a man sitting hunched on the side of the street staring bleakly out into the impenetrable fog, his legs dangling over the edge, over the dark waves.

As Miroku grew nearer the distinct shade of impossibly blond hair and the familiar perpetual scowl that grace the young mans face became clear. As the layer of fog between the two men lessened the thin line of a fishing pole being cradled in the man's lap became clear.

When he was beside the man, looking out into the foggy sea, he squatted down beside him and said, "Anything biting?"

The young man snorted derisively and said, "What the hell is there to catch this close to shore?"

"If you know that you're not going to catch anything, Yash," he said, looking over at his lifelong friend, "then why are you here at this hour?"

"Well," Inuyasha said, scratched at his arm, which was cradled to his chest by a ragged strip of cloth acting as a sling, his eyes hard with suppressed anger, "if I can't go to fish to put some food on the table, I might as well wait for it to come to me."

On the last trip out, a storm had hit, throwing the ship into chaos, and resulting with several injuries, but no deaths. Inuyasha's arm had been broken, keeping him stuck on land until it healed. He had tried to convince the Captain that he was fit to sail, but Kagome, his wife, had had a near meltdown when she heard. She didn't want him getting hurt anymore than he already was, after all.

"Well," Miroku said, slapping his friend jovially on the shoulder, eliciting a string of fowl words and a pained glower that went unnoticed, "good luck with the fishing, but I think you'll have better luck getting something hot into you stomach by going down to the tavern and having the little lady bring you something from behind the bar."

With that passing sentiment he stood, stretched, and again began his trek.

The ship yard was calling to him.

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As Sango rose out of the muffled murkiness of sleep, that familiar sense washed over her. She had felt it for the past half-year. It had become so familiar that she didn't have to open her eyes to know… She didn't even have to lift her head to be able to tell…

She was alone.

As consciousness swept over her, she cracked open her eyes, spying the vague outlines of the furniture of their room. She reached out her hand, feeling for the lamp pull. She grasped the thin chain and pulled. The sudden light blinded her as she swung her feet down onto the old woven rug and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing a few kinks out of her stiff neck.

After a moment of sitting there, staring into space, her mind a jumbled mess, she stood and reached for her threadbare flannel robe, thrusting her arms into the wide sleeves. She moved from the bedroom to the stairs and padded heavily down them. When she reached the kitchen, she moved automatically to the cupboard above the stove and pulled down the can of instant coffee and began to set about making a pot of the caffeine rich drink.

As she waited for the coffee maker to do its job, she turned to the table and spotted a plate with a slice of ham and block of half eaten cheese. She sighed heavily and moved to clean up the leftovers, when suddenly it hit her harder than usual.

He was gone.

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When dawn was gray you went to catch the tide

Leaving me waking in an empty bed

For I was loved and loved but never wed

And left alone to hope and pray and fear:

_God speed you back to me, my bonny dear.

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**A/N:** Thank you for reading. This story will (hopefully) be in 4 parts, and soon. Please review so that I know what you guys think.


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